


I offer thee this silent sacrifice

by cruellae (tinkabelladk)



Series: You and I could end the world in fire or blood [9]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, M/M, This is why you always make sure the bad guy is dead, the aftermath, the world almost ends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 12:10:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18222968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinkabelladk/pseuds/cruellae
Summary: Sephiroth could feel it like a missing limb. His great and terrible power had been severed away, leaving him only mortal. He should be dead. He remembered the battle, the violent clashing of magic and swords, Cloud Strife and his stalwart companions. He remembered the cold shock of defeat, and at the very last moment, an improbable flash of a red sword, wreathed in flame, and a man who may as well have been fire himself.~In which Sephiroth does not die, Cloud Strife is an unwitting matchmaker, and the world is full of possibilities for the two people who almost ended it.





	1. Chapter 1

Very slowly, Sephiroth became aware of his body. Eyes closed, he probed at the sensations. Pain, soreness, and the deep itch of healing.

He reached out to his others, to Jenova, to the lifestream itself, but there was only silence. It felt as though part of him had been violently severed, leaving him as helplessly mortal as the day he was born.

He remembered the battle, the violent clashing of magic and swords, Cloud Strife and his stalwart companions. He remembered the final moments facing Cloud in some dark place that wasn’t a part of the Planet at all, but was real enough for Cloud to bury the Buster Sword in Sephiroth’s chest for the final time. He remembered the cold shock of defeat, and at the very last moment, an improbable flash of a red sword, wreathed in flame, and a man who may as well have been fire himself.

Cloud had been very real, but that glimpse of Genesis, well…it was what he would have wanted most to see before he died, the project of a deranged imagination.

Sephiroth opened his eyes.

Sunlight was falling through an open window, casting a bright square on his bed. Thick blankets covered his body, and a fire crackled merrily in the fireplace.

_Where am I?_

He sat up with some effort. Outside the window, he could see a thick layer of snow on the nearby rooftops.

He lifted his hands and studied them. His fingers were long and graceful as always, but merely human. He ran them down his torso. He was shirtless except for the bandages that wound around his chest. Something was missing; it felt like a severed limb. His great and terrible power had been cut away from him, leaving him beyond vulnerable.

He reached out his left hand and concentrated, and slowly, painfully, the Masamune materialized in his grasp. He breathed out a soft sigh of relief. That, at least, had not deserted him. He closed his eyes and let his one wing unfurl, filling the small room. Still intact. Still his.

He set the sword behind him on the bed and swung his feet over the edge. On the nightstand, there was a folded note. He picked it up and unfolded it.

The writing was familiar, a graceful, dramatic script.

_Even if the morrow is barren of promises_

_Nothing shall forestall my return._

He stared at the note, wondering if this was all some deranged dream. Or if he was dead, and this was what came after.

“You’re awake.”

Sephiroth’s head jerked up, and he drew in a quick breath. “Genesis.”

“Nothing shall forestall my return.” Genesis set down a paper bag on the nearby table. He was dressed for the climate, in a dark red parka and black boots crusted with snow. “Did you really think Zack Fair was strong enough to kill me?”

Sephiroth shook his head slowly, unable to take his eyes off Genesis. He was alive, he was breathing, and he had returned.

“I saved your life,” Genesis said. “A little gratitude would be nice.”

“Why?”

Genesis tossed his hair in that dramatic way he had. “Do you really need to ask?”

There were too many things that needed to be said. Sephiroth couldn’t make himself speak. He was still wearing the shame of his defeat like a heavy mantle.

“Here.” Genesis sat behind him on the bed. “Your hair is a mess. Let me brush it out.”

Sephiroth closed his eyes and focused only on the sensation of Genesis’s fingers in his hair, gently teasing out tangles. “I suppose I should cut it.”

“Don’t you dare,” Genesis whispered in his ear, tugging gently on a long silver lock.

“I was defeated.”

Genesis pulled Sephiroth’s hair away from his neck, then pressed a kiss to the skin exposed there. “It doesn’t matter.”

Sephiroth didn’t have an answer for that, and Genesis didn’t seem to need one. He sat perfectly still as Genesis unwound the bandages around his torso and examined the fresh scars.

“You still heal quickly. That’s good. We need to move soon, before Shinra comes looking for your corpse.”

“They think I’m dead?” Sephiroth asked.

“Yes. We can use it to our advantage, if we’re clever. But don’t worry about that now.” Genesis gently pushed him back onto the bed. Sephiroth lay on his back and Genesis traced the scars on his chest, frowning intently before leaning to kiss along the reddened lines. “Cloud Strife will pay for each and every one of these,” he said, his voice low with promise.

“Gen…” Sephiroth wasn’t sure how to feel. It was overwhelming, to deal with the crumbling aftermath of his attempt to take over the Planet, the crushing defeat at Strife’s hands, and now Genesis, back from the dead.

“My monster,” Genesis said, pressing a kiss to his lips. “My beautiful, _vicious_ monster. I’ve missed you.”

Sephiroth tangled his fingers in Genesis’ hair, ran them over Genesis’ face and down his chest, trying to map every inch, to convince himself none of this was a mirage. He pulled himself up and into Genesis’ arms, burying his face in his lover’s shoulder. Genesis unfurled his great black wing and curled it around them both.

“I failed,” he murmured into Genesis’ neck. “I wasn’t strong enough.”

“My love,” Genesis murmured, “you were alone.”

Sephiroth closed his eyes and relaxed into the embrace.

#

Genesis sat by the fire, idly paging through Loveless and watching Sephiroth sleep. He had been asleep for six hours of daylight now, and Genesis was glad. It meant he was recovering. They had a few more days to linger here in this village, but it wouldn’t be long before Rufus gathered his nerve and sent the Turks out looking for the aftermath of Strife’s battle.

The memory of Sephiroth lying on the bottom of the crater, the Buster Sword through his chest, was still seared fresh into his mind. The helplessness he’d felt during the long, drawn out battle, waiting at the periphery for it to be over. He wasn’t so foolish as to think he could stand against Cloud and his companions at the height of their power, and he hadn’t been certain Sephiroth wouldn’t try to kill him either, as far from reason as he was. So he’d waited until Sephiroth lay almost motionless at the bottom of the crater, until the earth shook and Cloud Strife and his companions hurried back to their airship. As the ground trembled beneath him, Genesis had descended into the pit and driven his sword through what was left of Jenova. And then he’d knelt by Sephiroth’s body and cast the strongest healing spell he was capable of, over and over until the earth came apart beneath them and he’d had to spread his wing and carry them away.

Sephiroth stirred in his sleep and Genesis moved to sit at the side of the bed, taking his small notebook out of his pocket. He’d spent a good portion of the afternoon writing, and was relatively pleased with the outcome. Now, he idly crossed out a word, scribbling a replacement in the margin and then studying his addition to the poem until he heard Sephiroth gasp for air like he’d been drowning, his eyes snapping open.

“Hey.” Genesis leaned over him, brushing some of the strands of silver that had worked their way free of the braid out of his face. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“Don’t put me back in the tank,” Sephiroth said, and he sounded for a moment just like a child. “Please.”

Genesis felt a flash of pure rage, even though he had been with Cloud Strife in Midgar when Hojo met his end, Genesis’s sword through his chest and Vincent Valentine’s claws in his eyes.

“Hojo is dead,” Genesis said, pressing his palm to Sephiroth’s cheek. “I killed him. He’ll never hurt you again.”

Sephiroth blinked at him, growing still. “He’s dead?”

“I killed him.”

Sephiroth was quiet for a moment. “He was my father.”

“If you’re asking me to apologize, you’re going to be waiting a long time, my love,” Genesis said.

Sephiroth gave him a small, tired smile. “How did you find me?”

“I followed Cloud Strife.”

Sephiroth gave a soft, bitter laugh. “Cloud Strife. Of course.”

“He was good for one thing,” Genesis said. “He led me to you.” And whatever other designs Genesis had for Strife, he would always be grateful for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810399/chapters/46905826#workskin)


	2. Chapter 2

Sephiroth watched Genesis write in his little notebook, hunched over the grand dining table. They were in Shinra manor in Nibelheim, where they’d set up a living space of sorts in the upper level. Monsters did not generally attack Sephiroth, and they quickly learned to stay clear of Genesis’s fire and steel, but they acted as an excellent deterrent for anyone else who might be curious about why the windows were lit in the dark of night. Nibelheim was deserted anyway, as all the Shinra personnel had quit pretending to be townsfolk as soon as their wages stopped flowing in from Shinra HQ.

“You’re angry,” Sephiroth said softly. Genesis had been drifting from him, distant and aggravated now that the initial rush of their reunion had subsided. He was irritable and short tempered, and many nights he was up almost until dawn, then slept on the couch rather than crawl into bed with Sephiroth.

Genesis looked up from his notebook. “Why would you think that?”

“I lived with Hojo. I know when the person taking care of me is angry.” Sephiroth crossed his arms and let his hair fall to hide his face.

“You think I’m like Hojo?” Genesis asked, sounding annoyed.

“You’re angry that I failed,” Sephiroth said. “And you are punishing me for it.”

Genesis stared at him, closing his notebook. “I’m…punishing you?”

“When I failed at his tests, Hojo would take things from me. A blanket. My bedding. My Masamune.” Sephiroth resisted the temptation to summon his sword now, to feel it solid and cold in his hand. Since had had woken up he had felt fragile as a child, more fragile, even, than the child _he_ had once been.

Genesis gave him an irritable glance. “And what, pray tell, am I to have taken from you?”

“You have removed yourself,” Sephiroth said, glaring back. “You are angry that I failed, or that I attempted it all in the first place, and so you have removed yourself from my bed and my presence.”

“I’ve been doing research,” Genesis said. “Trying to understand what happened to us, and what exactly we are. And—” He paused, brushing his fingers over the cover of his notebook. “But you’re right,” he finally said. “I am angry.” He crossed the room slowly, his eyes on Sephiroth. “The entire time I was chasing after you, I heard her voice in my head.”

“Jenova,” Sephiroth guessed.

Genesis nodded. “She kept taunting me, mocking me. Telling me that I wasn’t good enough, I wasn’t strong enough.”

“And you’re angry at me because you’re jealous,” Sephiroth said. “You’re angry that she picked me.”

“No.” Genesis crossed the distance between them. “I’m angry because _you_ picked _her_. Because you should belong to me.”

Sephiroth stepped back. “If you wanted any kind of fidelity, you should not have left me.”

“I left because you were more bound to Hojo and Shinra than you were to me,” Genesis snapped. “But now that Hojo is dead and Jenova is gone and Shinra is in ruins, all you have left is me.”

Sephiroth turned his face away. He felt a bone deep weariness, an aching sorrow. The loss of his powers, severed from Jenova and the lifestream, haunted him. Without that—what did he have? Just a man who slept in a separate room, who had already left him once, whose love had been a lie.

“I thought I was going to die,” Genesis said, his tone gentler, almost apologetic. “My body was degrading quickly, and there seemed to be no cure. I wanted to take Shinra down with me. Because I was unbelievably angry at them, but also because I thought if Shinra was gone, it would set you free. I didn’t think it would—I didn’t think you’d hate me so.”

Sephiroth considered this for a moment. “I suppose we both failed at our great ambitions,” he said. Oddly enough, the thought made him feel a little better.

“Of course we did.” Genesis reached for him again, carefully this time, placing a gentle hand on Sephiroth’s waist. “We were apart. But now that we’re together, there’s no force on the planet that can stop us.”

That thought was comforting too, and Sephiroth let himself be pulled into an embrace, Genesis’s head fitting snugly against his chest.

“I love you,” Genesis said, looking up at him. “Whether you believe it or not, it remains true.”

Genesis had traveled across the entire planet with Cloud Strife, searching for Sephiroth. He had descended into the North Crater, endured its horrors, and saved Sephiroth when all others would have left him for dead.

_“I have surgically altered your heart,” Hojo said to the silver-haired child sitting on his exam table. “You will never love anyone. That’s what makes you strong.”_

Even at five years old, Sephiroth had known such a thing was impossible, and yet he’d always believed it. A deficit in his genetic code, perhaps, that made him incapable of empathy, of a true connection to someone else. Now, for the first time, he wondered if perhaps he had been mistaken.

“I did not choose Jenova,” Sephiroth said, softly. “It was only that my mind was weak enough to let her in.”

“I heard her voice too.” Genesis reached up to brush Sephiroth’s cheek with the calloused fingertips of his right hand. “Not like you did, but…enough to understand.”

“Then you understand that I have only ever chosen you,” Sephiroth said, giving his words to the air carefully, precious things he was almost afraid to reveal.

Genesis pulled him close and answered that with a kiss deep and passionate enough for Sephiroth to lose himself in.

Afterwards, lying tangled together in bed, the sun falling in through the mansion’s tall windows, lighting Genesis’s hair the color of fire, Sephiroth turned to him and asked the question that had been trapped inside him since the moment he awoke.

“Gen…what do we do now?”

Genesis brushed a lock of silver hair out of Sephiroth’s face and gave him a wicked smile. “Anything we want, my love. There is no one who can stop us this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! I hope you enjoyed the series. 
> 
> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> Last year I wrote [the book of my heart](https://www.amazon.com/Dark-City-Sarah-Kay-Moll-ebook/dp/B07FP4M6BH).


End file.
